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“Thank you,” Lady Lockhart said when Philip finally remembered to pass her the towel he had taken from beneath his bench. For several moments he had been distracted by her beauty, unable to stop thinking of the dream he’d had several nights away in which he had kissed her most passionately.
Now, as he watched her drying the strands of curls that fell loosely around her heart-shaped face, he couldn’t help thinking of it again. He imagined how it might feel to lean forward, take the towel from her hands and cup her face in his palms, how it would feel to press his lips to hers and feel her kiss him back in return.
Going further still, he imagined how it would feel for her hands to land on his chest, to feel the warmth of her palms through his soaked shirt and undershirt. His skin burned with the desire to know what that would feel like, and he had to wrap his fingers around the edge of the bench, leaning backwards into the cushioned seat so that he would not do anything he might regret.
With every tutoring session that passed, Philip realised more and more just how pleased he was to see the woman, just how content he was to spend time in her company. It was refreshing to be close friends with a woman, especially a woman who did not make everything about nonsense, such as love and romance.
In some ways, she was even better than any male friend he had. She was kind, compassionate, and intelligent, and he found her remarkably easy to talk to.
Looking at her now, he couldn’t help thinking of how much he admired her, not just for her beauty but for her mind and her constant need to be surprising. Though he was well aware she had a rebellious streak, he had never expected to find her walking through Christ Church Meadow during the middle of a rainstorm. Yet, somehow, he wasn’t entirely surprised as he might once have been.
She did not complain of being soaked through or moan that the rain should not have disturbed her walk but instead sat dabbing her hair and face with the towel, smiling quietly.
Unable to help himself any longer, Philip’s fingers slipped from the edge of the bench, and he instinctively started to lean forward. Perching on the edge of the seat, he gripped hold of the towel that Lady Lockhart had covered her face with and gently eased it from her fingers.
“Please, allow me,” he whispered gently to her, their gazes meeting so that it caused his heart to skip a beat. His chest tightened as he leaned forward and made a show of using the edge of the towel to dab a few droplets of water away that were rolling down her temple.
She made no protest and the next moment the towel had slipped completely from both of their hands. With nothing left between them, Philip reached for her cheek, cupping her face in his hand, unable to stop from smiling when he felt her leaning into his palm.
Though still damp, her cheek was warm in his hand, and it caused his flesh to tingle, especially when she fluttered her eyes closed and seemed to lean into him. Philip was more than a little relieved that he hadn’t taken the carriage his father had suggested that morning, the one with the front windows where the driver might have been able to see in.
Luckily, he had chosen the more comfortable carriage instead, with only the side windows covered by lace drapes as more protection from the sunshine earlier in the day.
Seeing how her eyelashes danced upon her high cheekbones, Philip leaned in closer to get a better look. As he did so, his eyes began to close too, and he readied his lips. Feeling her gentle breath upon his face, Philip kissed Lady Lockhart with all the passion that had been building deep inside him. Excitement and desire fuelled him, and he moved ever closer, his rear lifting off his bench so he could press the lady back against the cushioned back wall of the carriage.
Keeping her pinned there, Philip took hold of her face in both his hands and trembled when he felt her palms reach for his chest. For one wild and unbearable moment, he believed that she would attempt to push him away. He knew that even though he did not want to, he would be the kind of gentleman who would hold himself back if she asked it of him. Yet until he had felt her reluctance or heard her distaste from her own lips, he could not bring himself to pull back.
He kissed her like he had kissed no other woman before her as if she were the only woman who had ever mattered, and his insides quivered with the desire she was causing deep inside him. Lady Lockhart’s hands came up to cup his face, her fingertips dancing in the roots of his hair at his temples, and the next moment, she was cupping the back of his head, guiding him down on top of her as she manoeuvred herself to lie horizontally upon the carriage bench.
As she did so, raising her legs and opening them to him, the skirts of her gown fell back to her waist, revealing sheer white stockings that only accentuated the paleness of her creamy thighs. He caught sight of them for only a moment before she guided him swiftly down to her, a whimper trembling from her lips as though she could barely contain herself.
“Mr Radcliffe? My Lord?”
The words caused Philip to blink, and just like that, he realised he had imagined the entire thing. Feeling the heat and pressure in his manhood at the imagined kiss, Philip squeezed his thighs together and could only pray that his cream breeches were thick enough to keep it in check. He did not dare to look down to be sure, just in case he also drew her eye to his arousal. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her off by showing her just how much she affected him.
She has no effect on me!he scolded himself, trying to push all passionate thoughts of Lady Lockhart from his mind.
“Are you alright, My Lord?” Lady Lockhart asked, and Philip quickly realised he had not yet answered her.
Clearing his throat and mentally shaking himself in an attempt not to look like a complete fool, he responded, “I am. I am sorry. I was distracted for a moment by your beauty.”
Lady Lockhart started to blush at his words, and when he lowered his gaze slightly so as not to embarrass her, he quickly realised that she had been holding the towel out to him, clearly finished with it.
A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered once more the vivid imagining he had just had of taking said towel from her before kissing her in a manner that could only lead to something much more serious. For a moment, he was nervous about taking the cotton towel from her, scared that he might do something he would regret if he so much as touched the material or maybe even accidentally caught her hand as she was holding it.
He feared his flesh touching hers because he was certain that if her touch were as warm as he had imagined, he would be unable to stop himself from touching her and kissing her just as he had in his mind.
“My Lord, I fear you may still have rainwater in your eyes,” Lady Lockhart said with great humour and glanced down at herself, clearly reminding him of the state they both shared.
“I suppose you are quite dishevelled.” Philip chuckled back, admiring her even though her hair was hanging in lank, sodden strips around her face, and her charcoal eyeliner had caused small semi-circles beneath her eyes. “Though I must admit it looks good on you, My Lady.”
There were streaks in her cheek rouge as though she had been crying, and if Philip had not caught her in the middle of a rainstorm, he might have been concerned. But her lips, those beautiful, rosy pink and quite plump lips were calling to him still.
“Mr Radcliffe, are you trying to charm me?” Lady Lockhart asked, her lashes fluttering.
It was impossible to stop himself from realising that his day had brightened the very moment he had seen her running for the shelter, and it had brightened further still the moment her scent wreathed around him in the carriage. Even sodden as she was, he could still smell her lavender perfume.
Though he had always been able to see how attractive she was, he had never allowed himself to truly look at her, to stare at her with undisguised admiration as he was at that moment. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to look away, and with their gazes still locked, Philip leaned forward and brushed a lank strand of hair from her face. Sweeping it behind her ear, he realised that her cheek was just as warm and inviting as he had imagined it to be.
